As Many As The Stars
by RubyGloom7
Summary: Robin feels as an unhinged enigma. Robin knows things and places beyond life, age, and time. Robin, whatever Robin is, has been made and remade, has seen and unseen the possibilities unfolding and vanishing as in a game. "It's a gift," Tiki says. But Robin wonders if gifts should hurt. [Robin remembers being many things.]


**As Many As the Stars**

* * *

"I see numbers," Robin says. It's quite a simple statement, quiet and evenly phrased, yet Chrom senses something ominous in his words. There are shadows under Robin's eyes, and he can tell he hasn't slept well.

"Do you mind elaborating?"

His lips are chapped and chewed, torn in some parts.

"I mean… I see numbers everywhere. Not just… not just my books. It's not aftervision; the numbers persist beyond what is normal. They… they've begun to glow. Green. They glow green." he lets out a shaky breath and his shoulders tremble. "I started seeing them not too long ago. They were black, at first. And they… they're not countdowns. They would go down. But they just grow. And I… I have this feeling…"

"Go on," Chrom put his hand on one of his shoulders, kneading the tenseness.

Robin's fingers twine as he brings his palms together. He says, shakily, "I have a feeling that they have to do with us. With every single one of the Shepherds. You…" he glances askance at Chrom. "You have numbers, all around you."

"As we speak?"

"Yes. Always. Some of the numbers have turned green already. Some haven't. Some just… they don't grow much. They are low."

"What does it mean when they turn green?"

"I don't… I don't know. All I know is that they stop growing when they turn green."

Chrom pondered over this. Strange. Robin wasn't crazy, not even after so many sleepless nights and nerve wracking wars. Robin's mind was of steel. What he was seeing, experiencing, must be true. But knowing that didn't help at all. He had no idea what kind of witchery this was.

"How about you? Are these numbers…" he makes a vague, awkward gesture with his hand, "around you as well?"

Robin closes his eyes and makes a sound, as if in pain.

"What is it?"

"I see them… in the mirror. I can't… I can't NOT see them. Sometimes I will close my eyes, hoping to see nothing but blackness. But…"

"It doesn't work?"

"It works… but not in a way that I can stop thinking about them. When I don't see them… I… I think I can _hear_ them."

Under his palm, Robin shivers more.

"But they're so many all I hear is… a buzz. And, and, I know things. But I'm not sure the things I know are true. They make me forget where I am, what I'm doing and who is who. What am I-"

* * *

"I hear voices," Robin says into the crook of Gaius's neck. She can't very well explain it, but she fears going mad if she doesn't at least let some words out. "Not just yours, and not just mine. I hear others' voices, right now, even in the silence."

"Mmm?"

Her husband isn't very sensible.

"Omens, or warnings. Sometimes they're just sounds. But I think I can make out some words here and there… Sometimes I don't know if it's you who is speaking to me or…" _or some other Gaius, some other you who I feel I know from a different time. You two are so different, yet so similar. You both are the father of my child… but not the only father of my child_.

"You mean like predictions? You know what's gonna happen?" It's a scary thought, he finds himself thinking. It's scary that she might already know places and dates beyond her time, and even more frightening when he considers what that might mean. There's a reason why the future should remain a mystery, after all. Who wants to know the conclusion of a book before starting to read it? What's the point in the reading the book then?

"No… I don't… I don't know for sure what will happen. But I see possibilities." she shifts on the bed. Her bare breasts rub against her husband's side. "You died twice last month. And Morgan is married to Lucina."

A queer kind of feeling churns inside Gaius's gut.

"Morgan is not even old enough to-"

"I know." Robin says. But he was, and he is, and he will be. Somewhere... no, some _when_ else, these things are happening, separate, but connected, all at once.

 _Somewhere else I'm not your wife. Somewhere else we are friends, but you make me belts and not necklaces._

"Hey, he whispers into her hair, but she can't hear him. His voice is another's. "It's alright. I'm still here. You're still here. I'm telling you… everything will be fine."

 _"Alright,"_ she thinks. _"I believe you. Don't worry Chrom, we'll survive."_

* * *

He's a walking legend, you want to tell him. Even now, even before the ink runs and the bards begin their songs, every step he takes renders the earth under his immeasurable shadow. It's hard to try to conceive the titanic shadows of his ancestors looming over him, because he already is a colossus in his own right. The mere thought of names like the Radiant Hero's overwhelm the imagination because of the contrasts between him and Priam.

She can't tell Priam that, however. She's not sure how that would sound. She couldn't just say it to him: "I can see him, you know? The man you've told me about… he's right here, at your back, looking directly at me over your shoulder. I think I loved him, and I think he loved me back. Let me sew your ripped clothes. I am a mother from your line."

* * *

The dark ego rushes up at his heels. He's been brooding for weeks now, even so long after the wedding. Even when he knows it's only so long until Lyn finds him in the prairie and gives him her name. It will take several lifetimes, but eventually they will get their chance again. He only wishes Morgan could be hers as well.

* * *

"They say..." Tiki mumbles, half in dreams. "They say that Naga is beyond time and space. This must be her grace, Robin. It's a gift. She has deemed you wise and pure, and bestowed insight upon you. Don't reject it, or it will hurt."

"It's not a gift," Robin says, and he is not afraid of the volume of his voice. What else could he be burdened with? "You are young, Tiki. Always will be when compared to me. No matter how many centuries you live, I will always leave you behind. I have no shadow… I am a shadow. Or maybe I'm nothing… "

"You mustn't think that way."

He's losing time sense.

"I'll see you again, when you're younger. We'll always meet, but you won't remember this moment in the future that we've shared. I will. And it'll hurt. It always hurts. It's the only constant… The pain."

"Robin…"

"No. That's not my name. Tell Marth… tell him-"

* * *

He hasn't aged a day.

"Have you perhaps heard of me?"

"Yes," Robin says.

 _Yes, I know you. And you know me, but not yet. Not yet._

"You have. That's wonderful."

 _More than you think._

"Strange, but it does feel as though you and I have met somewhere before… You remind me of a good comrade of mine, in fact. A member of my royal guard who became a lifelong friend."

 _But we could have been so much more. I wish you could tell me, is it wrong to have loved you all so much?_

"What is your name?... Robin? A pleasure. May I ask one more question?"

 _Anything Marth. Anything._

"As a tactician, you must take a wider view-" _You have no idea._ "and direct your comrades accordingly. But what if you had to choose between a narrow victory or saving a fallen comrade? Would you put victory for all above the life of one?"

 _Sometimes, I think I would. I think I have. I think I've lost several people several times and in several ways, but something happens. Things change. They go back to the way they were, and then they change again, and again, and again. It's doing nothing for my sanity, I assure you, but if my sanity is all that's being lost in exchange for my mistakes being erased, I'm glad this is how it works. But this is a strange answer, and probably not what you want to hear._

"No. No, I'd never do that."

"I see. You are a kind woman. I would like to think we are similar."

 _Me too._

"My own advisor, Jagen, would often caution me against yielding to sentiment. I know he was right, but it never felt proper to leave soldiers behind. I do not want to pay for my victories with the lives of subjects and friends. Would you tell me more about yourself, Robin? As comrades-in-arms, I would know all I can of you and your plight..."

 _I want to tell you, even when I have told you everything a thousand times already. I want to talk to you again and again. Speech is a form of action, and I feel that if I don't read the script of fate, nothing that has ever been written is true. I must tell you so truth materializes itself, so I know my knowledge is real. This is my way of being performative, this is how the universe goes round and round._

"Thank you Robin. We've only just met, but I already feel a special bond between us. When your warring is done, you must let me take you to Altea."

 _Yes. Home, to where it all began. I would like that._

"I'm certain my knights and comrades would take to you as well. Let us fight together!"

 _Ah. Always the fighting. I take back what I said, pain is not the only constant. There is also death. I've lost count of all the times I've died and come back to you all. It's dreadfully desolate, the space in between returns; only words greet me every time. Words and numbers… numbers everywhere, places, turns, heroes, titles… whatever all that may mean. I've been split in halves, those halves have been split in thirds, those thirds have been tore into fourths, and so on…_

 _I am very vast, and I am many, as many as the stars perhaps_.

Marth smiles.


End file.
